Fish, meatballs, strong cologne, my two-year-old’s poopy diapers and even my beloved SweeTart jellybeans have all made me vomit this pregnancy. But would you like to know the number one thing guaranteed to bring on the waves of nausea? The smell of my own sweat. I know. For a girl who gets sweaty at least six times a week, that’s a problem.
At first I couldn’t figure out why the nausea is worse at the gym than other places – usually if anything it’s the meat and seafood counter at the grocery store which sends me running… to the coffee aisle, which is strange because while I’ve never drank the stuff (I’m LDS so it’s against my religion) I find the smell of coffee very soothing. But while I was lifting weights with the Gym Buddies on Monday (side note: as part of our weight routine, we did the Self mag “Get a Wow Booty Now!” routine. It sucked. While it was high on the entertainment factor – you have got to see these moves, they’re hilarious – only one move out of the entire 8 actually caused any burn in our booties.) my shirt puckered and I got a whiff of eau du Charlotte. I don’t know if pregnancy has changed my personal scent or if I’m just more aware of it now but holy crap do I smell bad. I apologized to Gym Buddy Allison who was spotting me. She gave me a funny look and said she couldn’t smell me.
I wear deodorant. (And yes, I’ve tried clinical strength types. They might help – if I could smear them on my entire body.) I shower every day. Usually. I launder my clothing, including all my gym duds. And yet I reek to the point I make myself hurl. Scientists say that breaking a sweat easily and often, while irritating in our perfect-pits-obsessed culture, is actually a sign of good health. Which is good because I am one sweaty betty. Before, my ability to soak a t-shirt was more of a party trick but these days it has serious consequences. And not just at the gym. The other night I actually woke myself up because – oh yes – my pajamas smelled like B.O. My b.o. I had to change my shirt or risk midnight puke-age and nobody likes puking alone at midnight (a fact that has led to not one, not two, but three puke stains on the carpet right next to my side of the bed, courtesy of my wee ones). Upon recounting this episode to a good friend she consoled me with, “Oh it’s not just you! My husband wakes up every morning smelling like he slept in a cocoon of farts. It’s why I refuse to snuggle with him until he showers.” I’m likened to a man wrapped in a fart cocoon. Awesome.
You know what else is awesome? Sarah Haskin’s take on the deodorant industry:
(For those reading this post in readers or via e-mail, click thru to see the video – it’s worth it, I promise!)
Hit me up in the comments with your sweat woes! Do you leave a puddle on the floor at the gym? Hate perfumed deodorant? Refuse to wear deodorant a la Mathew McConaughey? Wear perfume to cover up the fact you haven’t showered? (Please, please say no to the last one!)